Novels by Nala

The smell of his cologne musky, expensive, and intoxicating filled her senses. Maya looked up into his eyes, seeing the raw desire burning there, and something in her snapped. Chloe was thousands of miles away, and Maya was tired of being good.She reached up, her fingers tangling in his dark hair, and pulled him down into a kiss.It wasn't a gentle kiss. Leo groaned, a low sound in his throat, and immediately took control. He was aggressive, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth, claiming her with a hunger that matched her own. He backed her against the large, study table, pushing her until she had to sit on the edge to keep her balance."Maya," he rasped against her lips, pulling back just enough to look at her. "You have no idea what you're starting.""Then show me," she challenged, breathless.Leo didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed the hem of her dress and pushed it up, his hands sliding over her thighs, making her skin prickle with heat. He didn't bother with the zipper

The driveway of the Sterling estate was a mile long, flanked by tall trees that seemed to be watching Maya’s car as she navigated the gravel. It was supposed to be a relaxing week away from the city, a chance to relax at her best friend Chloe’s family home while Chloe finalized a huge merger in Dubai. “Don't worry, Maya!” Chloe had chirped over the crackling international line. “My brothers are there. They’ll take care of you. Just... don't let Julian intimidate you, and definitely don't let Leo talk you into anything illegal.” Maya parked her car, taking a deep breath of the country air. She had known the Sterling brothers for years, but only in passing, at weddings or chaotic holiday parties. They were just "Chloe’s older brothers” a monolithic entity of wealth and good looks. Until now. She stepped out of the car, and the heavy iron door of the manor swung open. Julian stood there. The eldest. He looked less like a corporate executive and more like a Greek god in a tailored su

Martins lay in his bed, his skin feeling three sizes too small for his muscles. He knew his mother had retired an hour ago, he’d heard her door click shut and the plumbing groan as she brushed her teeth. He waited until he was certain. Then, he stood. He didn't put on a shirt—he wanted Helena to feel every inch of the heat he was carrying. He slipped into the guest room, locking the door behind him with a silent, predatory click. Helena was sitting up in bed, the moonlight catching the silver sheen of her silk slip. Her chest was heaving, her nipples peaking against the thin fabric. "Martins," she breathed, her voice a mix of terror and hunger. "You’re going to get us caught." "Then stay quiet," he rasped, lunging onto the bed. He didn't start with a kiss. He grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head against the headboard. He looked down at her, his eyes dark and dilated. "You were so bold under the table at dinner, Helena. Where’s that energy now?" "I... I was just—" She

The dining room smelled of roasted chicken and rosemary, a "welcome home" feast that felt like a mockery after what had just happened in the upstairs bathroom. Martins sat across from Helena, his damp hair slicked back, wearing a fresh black t-shirt that stretched tight across his chest. Every time he shifted, he could still feel the sensation of her touch. Helena, meanwhile, looked like a saint. She had changed into a modest, floral dress, her skin glowing from the shower. Only the slight tremor in her hands as she lifted her wine glass betrayed her. "I was just telling Helena," Sarah said, piling mashed potatoes onto Martins’ plate, "about that summer you two spent at the lake. You were ten, Martins. You followed her around like a little puppy dog. Do you remember?" Martins took a slow sip of his water, his eyes locking onto Helena’s over the rim of the glass. "I remember," he said, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous register. "I remember everything about Helena."

The guest bathroom was a sensory trap. Martins stood outside the door, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Through the wood, he heard the spray of the shower and the faint, melodic noise of Helena dipping her head under the spray. The scent of her jasmine soap was everywhere thick, floral, and cloyingly sweet. He couldn't help himself. He grabbed a stack of plush, white towels from the linen closet as a flimsy excuse and pushed the door open. The room was a white-out of heavy steam. It clung to his skin, dampening his shirt instantly. Through the frosted glass of the shower stall, Helena was a blurred, golden silhouette. He watched the shadow of her hands slide over the curve of her hips, lathering her skin, and his throat went bone-dry. "Sarah?" her voice drifted out, muffled and relaxed. "Is that you? I think I left my robe on the bed." Martins didn't move. He let his gaze linger on the steam-slicked glass. "It’s not Sarah," he said, his voice dropping into a

The summer heat in the house was already stifling, but the moment Martins heard the gravel crunch in the driveway, the air seemed to disappear.He had been upstairs in the home gym, finishing a final set of deadlifts. His skin was slick with sweat, and his muscles burned. He knew his mother’s best friend was arriving today, but in his mind, Helena was still the woman from his childhood, the one who laughed at his scraped knees and brought him imported chocolates.He stepped out of the gym, pulled off his soaked T-shirt, and tossed it onto the hallway floor. He didn’t bother putting on a new one. It was his house.The heavy front door groaned open.“Helena! Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” his mother, Sarah, called from the porch. Her voice faded as she turned back to the car. “Go on in and make yourself at home! I’ll be right there!”Martins froze at the top of the stairs.A woman stepped into the cool, dim light of the foyer.This wasn’t the “Auntie” he remembered.Her dark, glossy hair

The car slowed to a stop before a grand building, its exterior glowing with neon lights that splashed across the night like fire. Music throbbed from within, loud enough to make Naomi’s chest vibrate even before Nick parked. She pressed her palms against her knees, her heart racing faster than the beat of the bass.“This is it,” Nick said with a grin as he slipped out of the car, circling to open her door. “Come on, baby. Trust me.”Naomi hesitated. Every sermon her mother had ever preached rang in her ears—warnings about “godless places,” about losing herself, about how girls who wandered off the righteous path always paid dearly for it. And yet, the sight of Nick’s hand stretched out for hers made her chest ache. She took it.Inside was worse—or better. Naomi couldn’t decide. The music swallowed her whole, drowning her thoughts. Bright strobe lights cut across the dance floor, catching on sweat-slick bodies pressed together, moving in wild abandon. Women in dresses so short her moth

Naomi lay awake in bed long after everyone had gone to sleep. Her room was quiet yet her heart would not settle. The words Nick had whispered in her ear at church, the promise of a surprise if she sneaked out to meet him under the old tree kept circling in her mind.At first, she told herself she wouldn’t do it, it was too dangerous, too shameful. Her father trusted her completely and her mother Lydia always said that a girl’s honor was her crown. Sneaking out at night went against everything she had been raised to believe. But then she thought of Nick’s face the way his voice softened when he called her “his girl,” and her chest tightened with longing.She rolled on her side staring at the wall. “Just one night,” she whispered to herself. “I will only see him for a little while.”The decision felt like it was pulling her apart. Guilt gnawed at her stomach but her love or what she believed was love burned hotter than her fear.Slowly, she rose from her bed the cool floor chilled her b

The church bell rang loudly that Sunday morning, calling everyone to gather. Naomi walked slowly beside her parents. She felt heavy inside, her thoughts circling what Nick had told her, and William’s face when she had rejected him. She tried to shake it off, but the uneasiness followed her into the church.The service hall was already full. The elite women sat in the front rows, their colorful hats and matching wrappers shining under the light. Their whispers floated like sharp knives through the air, little giggles hidden behind their palms. Naomi knew who they were talking about.Her father, Pastor George, was not present that day. He had traveled to a minister’s retreat. That absence made the air in the hall strange, as if authority had shifted somewhere else.When the choir finished singing, a small stir rose near the altar. William walked forward. His steps were slow, his shoulders stiff. He wore a simple shirt and trousers, his face pale.Right behind him was Camille Stevenson,

The house of the Stevenson family was a mansion that seemed to breathe power, tall marble pillars framed the entrance, shining floors reflected the silver chandeliers, and every corner spoke of wealth. Yet for William, it was not home. He lived here, yes, but never felt like he belonged.He often hid in his music room on the east wing of the house. It was the only place where he felt free, the piano waited for him with open arms, the guitar leaned quietly in the corner, and the violin lay in its velvet case, waiting for his hands to bring it alive, music was where his pain turned into something beautiful.That evening his fingers moved over the piano keys filling the room with a soft melody. It was not a happy tune, It was the sound of loneliness, a boy’s cry dressed in notes.Suddenly, the door burst open.William flinched as his fingers slipped on the keys, he looked up quickly, his stepmother, Camille Stevenson, stood there with her face twisted in rage. She held her phone tightly

Sunday morning came heavy with warmth and light, bells rang across the church compound as families arrived in their best clothes. Naomi walked beside her mother, her Bible pressed against her chest. She tried to look calm, but inside her heart beat fast. She knew Williams would be around and after the promise she gave Nick she was determined not to speak to him again.The church was already buzzing when they entered. Ushers welcomed them, the choir rehearsed one last hymn, and children ran down the aisle before their parents hushed them. Naomi hurried to her section head bent not wanting to make eye contact with anyone.But it didn’t take long.Williams spotted her from the other side of the hall, his eyes lit up the way they always did when he saw her, and before Naomi could pretend not to notice he came closer, holding a small folded note in his hand.“Naomi,” he whispered gently slipping the paper onto her hymnbook.Her throat tightened, She didn’t want to draw attention, so she ke

Choir rehearsal was supposed to be about hymns and harmonies but Naomi couldn’t focus on a single note. The moment she walked into the church hall her eyes found Nick. He leaned casually against the back wall talking with two choir girls, his smile slow and easy yet his eyes were on Naomi the entire time. Her stomach twisted after the park, after seeing him with those girls, she had promised herself she wouldn’t let his presence shake her. But one glance from him and her resolve melted. When rehearsal ended, Naomi tried to slip away quietly but before she could step out of the hall a strong hand closed around her wrist. “Naomi,” Nick’s voice was low, tight with emotion. “We need to talk.” “Nick, please I need to get home,” she whispered, glancing at the others still packing their things. “I don’t care,” he said, his grip firm. “We need to talk.” The intensity in his tone froze her feet and she let him lead her out of the hall and into one of the narrow side corridors, away from